


Night of Lights

by Vandaier



Category: Littlevale - Fandom
Genre: I really didn't mean it to be this long but here we are, Littlevale, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:22:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24085045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vandaier/pseuds/Vandaier
Summary: Five times Vandaier caught Oto snuggling cats - and one time he snuggled a dragon instead.(Ft; Most of Littlevale.)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Night of Lights

**Author's Note:**

> _“You are all pretty little gems; and I will try my best to emulate your pure, sweet souls in this creation of mine. The words will sing of your essence and I will cry knowing that I did my best.”_  
> 
> 
> Here is my creation, my gemstones. I truly hope you enjoy it.

I

Perched high on a thatched rooftop, King Vandaier lay back against the soft hay and admired the stars. If he stared long enough he could imagine himself falling into the sky as if it were a pool of pure starlight, wading through a feeling lighter than honey but heavier than silk. Just enough give to have to work for it, to have to really _feel_ the atmosphere around him, and to revel in it. It was almost realistic enough that he could have opened his mouth and tasted the sky on his lips, fresh and pure. 

It would soon be time for his fortnightly sleep, so he took in as much of the night as he could as if it could disappear in the week he’d be slumbering, drinking in the sight of all the subtle colours in the void… and of course, his mother. 

A soft smile crept up onto his lip as he swam his gaze over to her, shining so beautifully in the darkness and coating the world in a glorious layer of silver. She shined particularly bright over the city tonight - over him, he knew - which only made the squeeze in his heart tighter. Vandaier sighed, releasing the tiniest sliver of his true form and watching as the shadows around him shifted, refracting the light into various shades of the rainbow. 

“I miss you.” He whispered softly, blinking past the pulse of white light from Armaros. “I hope you’re doing well up there. I hope it doesn’t get too boring watching me down here.” A quiet chuckle escaped him, and he watched a patch of peach shadow shimmer before it turned a gentle shade of lilac. He often wondered what form he’d take when he passed into the kosm. Armaros had embodied the moon, as was right for the Night-Queen, and his father had become the sun itself, every inch the Sun-King he’d been when he was alive. 

Perhaps he’d sink into the abyss in between. Maybe he was destined to be the darkness surrounding him, swallowing everything whole. It might not be such a bad thing, if he existed to hold up the ones he loved so dearly. 

Vandaier slowly eased himself up onto his feet, bracing his feet against the roof as he turned his gaze down onto the land below - the capital encompassing him, backed by the imposing ridge of mountains he’d had to fly over to reach the city. They didn’t exist, not yet, just a large black smear in the dark of the night, stretching upward forever until stars began to bravely peek out at the top, avoiding the jagged peaks so as not to taint themselves of the abyss. The land below was bathed in his mother’s moonlight, setting verdant green trees aflame with a white glow, trailing all the way down past the capital to the grasslands and rivers far below. Eventually the sea rose to meet the emerging sands, glistening in the distance, caught on a phantom wind. 

Land started again, further away than he could see, leading to the homeland of many of his new friends in this new kingdom. Littlevale, they called it. A quaint name. A cosy capital. Lands that seemed to flourish in the height of spring, with all manner of endearingly quirky life claiming home to the country. It was what he wanted for his own empire. The ideality of it all wasn’t lost on him. This place seemed like a painting, like the ones he’d spent weeks admiring centuries ago while they were being crafted by skilled hands. 

It was not without its own evil. 

Many of Littlevale’s residents had fallen to the blight creeping up on it, including the Queen’s own Captain of the Guard, which only furthered her hatred of it. They called it The Ink, a force that seemed to rise from the very shadows outside the capital’s expansive borders, leading innocents to their untimely turning. What went into those sticky pools of jet didn’t come out the same way. They re-emerged horribly disfigured, harbouring extra appendages and malformations to mention some of the lighter cases he’d investigated.

While he was here to establish trade routes between Logres and Littlevale, he was also called on his growing curiosity to try to purge The Ink. He didn’t want to be a ruler that used other kingdoms for his own prosperity, which was why he’d currently declared himself a magic tutor for the capital while he worked on both of his goals, teaching the capital and whoever else made their way to him how to wield what powers they’d been gifted with. Some of The Ink’s casualties visited him to get advice on calming the urges they found rising within them, like some hive mind commanding them to ruin their own lives. 

He took great care with those clients - committed their faces to memory as a driving force to remember what he was there for - and reminded himself that he couldn’t fall by the wayside and allow those people to suffer. Every single person he encountered afflicted with The Ink had the same questions, the same desperate hope in their eyes, and it was all he could do to try to help. 

Vandaier took a deep breath, steadying himself as he looked down into the near-silent streets of Littlevale. Guards patrolled the streets in pairs, carrying lanterns on the blunt end of their spears to light their way in the dark. Most of the residents of the city were asleep, probably tucked in their beds with a soft fire crackling at their feet to keep them warm. It was a good thing to witness, especially with the blight outside the borders, knowing that people still felt safe enough to sleep in the night. 

There was a time, long, long ago, in which he’d been that evil. It had not been slow and methodical as this was. He had raged across empires, burning a holocaust in civilisation itself. 

A soft tinkling came from far down below him, high and light in the heavy atmosphere of the night. 

Vandaier blinked, tilting his head to the side curiously as he listened out for the quiet jingle of what appeared to be a bell, tracking it to a nearby street connected to the main courtyard in front of Queen Eliora’s palace. He waited, following the sound with his eyes even if he couldn’t see the owner of the bell making its way toward him. Occasionally it stopped, but after an indeterminable amount of time it carried on, slowly, gaining speed until it fell silent again.

Interest thoroughly peaked, the sovereign followed the bell, silently leaping from roof to roof until he reached a house he could climb down from. On street level it was easier to track, what with the viable streets he could walk down rather than making his own rudimentary paths based on the layout of the city. 

He was thoroughly aware he might be walking into a trap as the jingling trailed down a pitch dark alleyway, then stopped. Flicking his right wrist to settle a long dagger in his palm, Vandaier silently creeped down the alley in a half-crouch, inspecting the open crates filled with trash and rotten food piled up against the walls. His silent approach ceased when he heard a faint mewl come from his right, followed by a very familiar shushing sound, far too loud to even be attempting to hide.

“Oto.” Vandaier rumbled, dispelling his dagger with another casual flick of his wrist. 

“ _Awh_ , are you serious? You can’t keep your cute little mouth shut for two seconds- Oh, I can’t even be mad at you, you cute little angel! Look how _adorable_ you are, love! I-” 

“ _Oto._ ” His voice held an edge that refused to be ignored, clear in the way the boy audibly swallowed before he stood, shuffling out from behind a pile of dilapidated crates.In the dim light provided by his mother he could see the boy’s head hang low, though he held his arms behind his back rather awkwardly. “Why are you lurking around alleyways in the dead of night?” 

“What, do I have to have a babysitter holding my hand everywhere I go?” Oto glowered up at him briefly, but upon seeing a dark eyebrow lifting in clear reprimand he huffed and fell silent, rocking himself back and forth on his heels. 

“I wasn’t implying that and you know it. Come.” Vandaier stepped to the side, gesturing to the end of the alley, briefly lit up by a passing patrol of guards that Oto squeaked at. Narrowing his eyes, he waited for the boy to start walking in the direction of the street, though when a few seconds passed and neither of them made a move to return to the rest of the city, he restrained himself from sighing. There was always something with Oto, definitely to do with who he was talking to earlier, but he’d hoped the boy would come clean about it on his own. 

“What do you have behind your back, Oto?” 

“None of your business.” 

“Oto.” 

“My hands.” 

“And what are your hands _holding?_ ”

“I dunno.” Despite himself, Vandaier felt a smile tug at the corners of his lips, as impressed as he was frustrated by the boy’s stubbornness. Oto was avoiding glancing at him as if he were The Ink itself, making him scoff softly and lean down until he was level with him. One hand snuck up in the dark until it cupped underneath Oto’s chin, tilting his head up until he gave in and looked at him. 

“What is it, little one? I promise you won’t get in trouble.” Hesitance flashed in his eyes, clear as day, making Vandaier smile a little wider to reassure him. “I’ll pretend like I don’t know what it is already, hm? Show me.” 

Oto glanced back toward the cobbles as he brought his hands from around his back, swinging a small, woven basket along with him and cradling it to his chest lovingly. Inside, though thoroughly hidden by their shadows and the night, lay a fluffy snow white cat. A diamond blue ribbon lay snug around her neck, that traitorous bell jingling its sweet tune when she stood up and braced her paws on the edge of the basket to look up at him. 

“She’s so _cute_ , isn’t she? Van, please… Please don’t tell her I took her, I’ll give her back soon, I just… She’s such a fluffy little ball of _adorableness_ , it can’t be so bad to take her out, just for a night!” Vandaier finally let out that sigh as he straightened, reaching a hand down to scratch behind the cat’s velvet-soft ears and listening to her purrs as she pressed her head into his touch. 

“Queen Eliora has a penchant for collecting beautiful things, including cats.” Oto flinched at the mention of his Majesty’s name, finally moving toward the street, Vandaier striding a step behind. If not for the boy’s naivety he would have given him a stern talking to, but once he’d been caught out he’d seemed too small to warrant a full reprimand. He figured he’d learned his lesson either way. 

“I will return her. Go and run along home, Oto. You’ve had a long night.” He extended a hand for the basket and dipped his head when Oto turned to place the cat in his care with a grateful glance, dragging his feet on the cobblestones and whining lowly under his breath. His shoulders were so slumped he wondered if it could be comfortable at all, though he huffed a soft chuckle at his sulky antics. 

“Thanks, Vandaier…” He drawled, pausing at the exit to the alleyway as he realised they had to part ways. Oto seemed to struggle with himself for a moment before he leaped toward the basket, cradling the cat’s pretty face in his hands as he peppered her with kisses. “We shall be reunited soon, little snowball. Don’t tell him that,” A cursory glare in his direction, to which he snorted at. “But soon.” 

“Sleep well, Oto.” Vandaier drew the basket away from the boy, watching as his face flitted through several different expressions at once until it settled on a positively heart-wrenching pout, solemnly watching his prize for the night be taken away from him. “She’ll be in safe hands, you know it. You’ll see her soon, no?” 

Oto nodded as if trying to convince himself physically, lurching in the opposite direction and muttering a soft goodnight before he disappeared down the street into the closing night, silent as a cat himself. Vandaier shook his head with a soft smile, disbelieving the boy had even managed to take a royal pet from Eliora’s palace, but there the pale beauty was in his arms, already curled back up as if she knew she was always in safe hands. 

It was a quick trip through the streets to the grand doors of Her Majesty’s palace, where six guards stood at attention. He gifted the cat to the kindest looking male with a soft order to feed her once she was settled again. 

He’d already disappeared when they finally looked to ask him where he’d gotten her. 

I . V

The fire was scorching. Even from outside, leaning against his large balcony, Vandaier could feel the heat licking up the back of his legs like an overexcited pet. Combined with the general heat of the day he was sure a lesser being would burn up in a matter of minutes, or just simply leave to avoid the sweltering burn. 

From his perch, high up in a large apartment overlooking a canal that bisected the city, he thought the place looked rather picturesque. He’d politely declined Queen Eliora’s offer of a room in her palace to stay in while they conducted business and instead had sought out a home that overlooked the rest of the city, settling above the other buildings like its protective older brother. Most of his homes in the past had been chosen based on the same quirks; 

A large balcony, suitable for him to feel the wind in his hair, high enough that no one would see him if he deigned to walk around shirtless - as he was now. An expansive, open floor plan so he could stuff it full to the brim with the books he found in the area. A large enough bedroom to accommodate a bed for wings if he couldn’t fully shift back into his true self, but needed to take the edge off his power.

His home lay on the north-western side of the city, one of the closest buildings to the mountains the city had been built against. The rest of Littlevale poured out toward the land far below. It could have been a dreary capital if not for Samyaza, making sure the shadows of the mountains never touched those moss-green rooftops until he slipped back over the horizon to welcome his mate into the sky instead. Everything was positioned perfectly, even the miles upon miles of farmland outside the city walls, tilled in the right places to catch those golden rays of light for as long as possible, and to soak up whatever rain came their way efficiently. 

If not for The Ink, Littlevale would rival Camelot for its geographical excellence. His parents had known what they were doing when they built Logres’ shining capital on an expansive island, towering the castle up into the skies for all to see. 

A soft smile loosed itself on his lips as he thought about his real home, though it quickly disappeared when he reminded himself that he had actual work to do other than admiring the city plan of Littlevale. 

Padding back into his apartment, Vandaier stood in the middle of his living area gazing at the books piled up in towers next to the chairs, strewn over his dining table haphazardly and collected in neat piles against the corridor wall leading to his bedroom and bathing room. He sighed quietly, moving to push all the books on his table to the side, stacking them in alphabetical order before collecting them in his arms and moving them to his bedroom - which was only vaguely tidy.

The only space in his bedroom - disregarding the floor, he was actually tidy in that regard - that wasn’t covered by novels was the large mirror in between two of his bookshelves opposite the bed. He stopped sorting his books in their correct places to look at himself briefly, running his gaze over the scars poking their way over his shoulders like white, creeping vines. There were more, normal scars strewn over his body as accidental tasteful tattoos, like the large, jagged one running from his right side all the way up to the center of his throat, but none were as sobering as the obvious white bands around his neck and wrists. 

He twisted slightly, daring to look at the ruined mass of flesh that was his back. Scars upon scars upon scars greeted him, hard ridges of white skin with barely even a sliver of his natural tan skin showing. 

Vandaier still felt them in his dreams. Those barbed whips, splitting open his scales, his skin, slicing right to the bone and massacring his flesh as they ripped their way out of his body upon exit. 

He stepped away from the mirror to throw on a black shirt and tunic, feeling sick to his stomach. 

°•.

A knock on the door pulled Vandaier from his book. 

He closed it with a wistful glance at the words written inside, looking at the clock on his mantelpiece as he set it on his side table and stood to welcome his client. He’d gotten over the heavy weight that had settled in his stomach from earlier, aided by trying to decipher one of the lost languages of Izalith in the far reaches of his kingdom. It was so similar to his usual Damiran mother tongue that he caught himself trying to read nonsense words multiple times, having taken to writing the alphabet of the Izalithian language on the back of his hand to remind himself which letters were different. 

Reading always helped him in that regard, just to remove himself from the world and immerse himself in a new one, exploring and tasting the words the author had penned so thoughtfully. It was an art in itself, just as much as the decadent paintings lining his walls as he walked into the entrance hall of his house and opened the front door. 

A familiar round face greeted him on the other side, smiling faintly even if he tried not to express any emotion as always. Oto. This time his spirit cat was with him, floating around his right shoulder.

“Good afternoon, little one. Come in.” Vandaier stepped away from the door to let the boy in, closing the door behind them and padding over to his dining table to prepare a simple potion for him to ease his mind. 

“Hey, Van. Thanks for seeing me on such short notice. God, I just couldn’t wait until our next appointment, this.. This thing is eating me alive, I just needed to vent somewhere, you know?” He could hear him taking off his shoes as he mixed the various ingredients he’d laid out in preparation, pouring the sparkling gold potion into a glass cup. It was best prepared fresh, for the longer it was left out the less effective it became, and could have adverse effects on the mind to muddle it instead of unravelling the owner. 

“It’s no problem. Always happy to assist our infamous Oracle.” He smiled as he turned from the table to join his friend, digging his toes into the lush forest green rug beneath his feet as he held out the potion to him. 

“Shut up- oh, thanks,” Oto grinned sheepishly as he accepted the cup, sipping at it as he shrugged off his heavy grey cloak, handing it to Vandaier who turned away to hang it up in his entrance hall. Isaac made himself comfortable right next to the fire, particles drifting from him to mingle with the flames. “How was your sleep, anyway? It gets terribly boring here when you drift off for a week, you know!” The dragon scoffed at the words that followed him out, placing the cloak on his coat rack by his front door, above the boy’s shoes.

“Restful. I needed it, though I don’t think Queen Eliora appreciates me being out of action for political meetings so I can sleep.” Vandaier made his way back over to Oto, settling down next to him and sighing as he shuffled to get comfortable. Fat rays of sunlight cast themselves through the open doors to his balcony, and the windows adjacent were also thrown open to let in as much soothing brightness in as possible. The fire was thoroughly unnecessary, but provided calming crackles in the otherwise silent apartment. 

“Ah, naughty dragon, slinking off to sleep! How dare he!” His laugh made the scar splitting through his right cheek warp grotesquely. Oto had a way with words, as an Oracle should, appearing to know just what to say to calm his overactive mind. Eliora wouldn’t be offended by him doing something as simple as sleeping, it was just him worrying about what his disappearances might insinuate - when in actuality they didn’t mean anything at all. 

“Mhm, indeed.” He smiled fondly as he calmed down, propping his feet up on the table in front of them, one on top of the other. “So, what’s eating you?” Vandaier nodded toward the potion to indicate it again, making Oto impulsively gulp down a few sparkling mouthfuls and sigh, rubbing his temple in small circles with his spare hand. 

“I haven’t been able to grab it; s’why I came here.” Oto mumbled, draining the last of the potion and leaning over to set it on the table next to the sovereign’s book. 

“It’s what I’m here for.” He mused softly so he didn’t disturb him, watching the boy lean back against the cushions on the couch, becoming completely boneless and calm as the potion worked its magic on his body. Those brilliant blue eyes closed but he could still see them moving, searching through his power to find the thread he was worried about. 

A soft gasp was the only indication he’d found what he was looking for, and Isaac rose from the fire to trot over to him, leaping up onto his shoulder and pressing his cold nose to Vandaier’s forehead. It allowed him to bridge the gap into Oto’s head so he could see the Oracle’s vision, wading through nothingness for a while until he brushed up against the walls of his mind.

They dropped slowly; a little cautious, but willing to show him the innermost workings of his soul. 

He took great care to stifle his magic here to avoid freaking Oto out with the power suddenly slinking into his head, silently sending up a small flare of starlight to indicate the Oracle could unveil the vision. 

It played in flashes and small scenes of things he couldn’t quite place, though he distinctly smelled the fresh musk of rain, and felt the whip of cold wind against his body. There was darkness, not a single light in sight beyond the odd flash of lightning nearby.. The vision changed. He felt mud suck at his calves as he waded through it, felt his body trembling and heaving through loud sobs. There- there was suddenly warmth, and a distinct sense of comfort, though fear still ran rampant through his body.

It faded as quickly as it had come, leaving Vandaier heaving calming breaths in the midst of Oto’s mind. Once again, he sent up a soft star, and the cold press against his forehead removed itself as Isaac leaped away, back to the fire. 

His human body rippled as he returned back to his own head, shimmering and revealing the kosm beneath it before he reinforced the glamour, blinking and finding Oto in a similar state of confusion and fleeting fear. 

“Yeah, uh..” Oto cleared his throat, running the back of his hand over his nose. “Well. I can, uh, tell why it was eating me.” He attempted to joke with a boyish smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. They stayed frozen in chips of ice, so Vandaier shuffled a little closer on the couch to ruffle his hair, lightly running his nails over his scalp to calm him down. 

“You haven’t failed yourself yet, friend. You have never failed to sway the course of your more negative visions. If this is one you don’t want, you know you have the power to change it.” He kept his voice low, barely a rumble of thunder in the night, to make sure he didn’t startle him. It was impressive that a boy of his age could withstand such visceral visions and interpret them correctly, let alone change the course of the ones he deemed destructive. He was immensely proud of him for mastering it so quickly, but he knew it came with its consequences.

Some Oracles went thoroughly insane, plagued by visions they couldn’t escape at every second of the day. He was there to help make sure that didn’t happen. 

The ice in Oto’s eyes melted as he took in his words, nodding and taking the hand out of his hair with a pointed look even if he’d been enjoying it. Vandaier smiled widely and stood, moving back over to his kitchen to find a snack for the boy, contemplating something he was willing to try out. He glanced at him as he went, talking over his shoulder.

“We know what’ll loosen your mind up, Oto, but there’s something I’ve had in mind for a while that might shore up your defenses around those nightmare-visions you said you’re getting.” He rummaged through his cupboards until he found a jar of cookies, taking it in his arms before he strode back over to offer it to him. 

“It concerns Isaac,” Vandaier continued as Oto eagerly pulled out a few cookies and hummed at him to go on, “But I can assure you it won’t hurt the little fluff ball. He’s your conduit to show people visions, and he’s tied to your spirit. What I’m planning will make him... grow… a little.” 

“What!?” Oto shrieked, spitting bits of half-chewed cookie all over the floor as he cut the dragon a scathing glare. “You’re not malforming the literal physical manifestation of my spirit, Vandaier, I don’t care who-” 

“I’m not going to malform him, Oto.”

“You said you’re going to _grow_ him like some alchemical experiment!”

“I’m going to grow him into a panther so he can protect you from your nightmares, Oto. Please, I wouldn’t harm a particle on his body.” Vandaier sighed, clicking his tongue four times and holding his hand out as Isaac perked up and trotted over to him, purring. He scratched behind the spirit’s ears as Oto narrowed his eyes at him, thinking hard about what he’d just said.

“And you’re sure that’ll work?” He asked eventually, after a white of silence filled with the strong purrs of Isaac. 

“I’m positive. It won’t hurt him - or you. He’ll just grow bigger and stronger, enough to defend you.” Isaac leaped onto the couch in between them, basking in the attention as they absentmindedly stroked their hands down his obsidian pelt. 

“...Alright. You know more than me. I’ll bring him along to our appointment in a few days, then you can get to work on him.” Oto sighed, picking up his spirit and cradling him against his cheek, pressing kisses all over his dark fur. Vandaier merely looked on fondly, reaching over to the cookie jar to get one out for himself. 

II

It seemed just as good a night as any to quietly read for a few hours. The sky was beginning to fog up with the appearance of clouds over to the west, preparing for a rainy day come sunrise, but as of right now the air was perfectly balanced and fresh enough for Vandaier to find himself walking down Littlevale’s humble streets come nightfall. The evening was a glorious shade of dark blue, filtering out into a soft peach colour near the horizon, clouds tinted a pretty rose-gold despite their duckling gray complexion. 

He tore his gaze from the sky to observe the natural revelry of the city around him, a soft smile working its way onto his face as he spied the glowing light of the grand library in the distance.

That was where he was headed currently, meandering calmly across one of the many canal bridges. The water reflected the stars just beginning to wake up, blinking beautiful white lights into the deep void to create a tapestry of diamonds and silk. Muffled laughter and delirious giggles fed themselves to him as he leaned on the bridge, coming from the many stores lining the canal’s sides. It wasn’t too late into the night that no one was wandering the streets, looking for home or in search of another bustling tavern, teeming with life and the sounds of mugs clashing together merrily. 

Vandaier set his feet into motion again, passing by one such establishment as he wandered down the main southern road. He glanced inside the bright windows to see a collection of various races dancing in the middle of the tavern hall, raucous shouts ringing out into the calm night through the open door. 

He grinned softly, moving on as he remembered a similar scenario with his friends. If he remembered rightly it also ended with them getting thrown out on their asses past dawn, for the feast he’d ordered had indeed morphed into a brawl with the leftovers. He was sure there were still mushed mashed potatoes ingrained in the wooden walls from where Hush had thrown it at Malakhi’s face and missed.

°•.

The grand library was a behemoth of knowledge, just waiting to be learned. 

Stepping past the massive stone doors into the round antechamber, Vandaier paused for a second just to close his eyes and inhale deeply, letting the silence of the library’s expansive halls sweep into his soul. It was warmly lit and tastefully decorated with the traditional Littlevalian green upholstery, though there were a few pops of deep, royal purple in the lush rugs beneath his feet, emblazoned with the traditional chrysanthemum flower. 

The entire library was shaped like a dome, spiraling up into the darkness of the night as a bastion of wisdom, stalwart against the forces of evil. There were a number of different genres per level, and he’d found that the further he’d walked into the rows upon rows of books the older the manuscripts were. He’d heard a rumor once about there being a secret library underneath the main one, but after spending the better part of a month padding through the columns and reading up on the building plans for the library, he couldn’t find anything. Short of digging up the floor to physically see whether there were a myriad of hidden catacombs beneath the building - which at the time he spent a good long week deciding whether or not to do so - he deemed the rumor thoroughly false. 

The antechamber he strode through was no exception to the grandness of the structure, serving as a large lounge for people to take their books and settle down to read. Comfy, deep set couches lined the rounded walls, and in the center of both the left and right walls roaring fires blazed, guarded by ancient stone cats holding up the mantles with their delicate noses. 

Vandaier entered the main library silently, heading for the decadent double staircase set in the middle of the large room. This place was a lair all on its own to him, a large cavern filled to the brim with priceless knowledge, practically teeming with the words begging to be read. Just striding into it made him feel empowered and refreshed. He craned his neck up to look at the painted glass sphere at the very apex of the library, filtering his mother’s light and making it shimmer in various shades of lavender and forest green, making the chamber feel much more serene. 

He climbed the stairs two at a time, eager to get to his little reading nook. There were various living areas strewn about the levels of the library to make it easier to settle down rather than having to traipse into the antechamber with every new book he read, and his preferred genre of the night required him to go right up the penultimate level - ancient history. 

Call him nostalgic, but he missed his infamous friends. He hoped they were doing well, wherever they were in the kosm. 

The sovereign reached his desired floor after a good minute of simply climbing the main staircase, pausing for a second to glance down at the ground far, far below him. It would be a disgrace to his kind to even slightly have a fear of heights, though he had to remind himself that he was in a human form when the urge to simply leap over the railing struck him, backing away from the balcony with a slight frown. 

Thoroughly losing himself in between the bookcases, Vandaier finally came across his little nook pressed against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the very back wall. It was a quaint sitting area, furnished with a sturdy oak table and chairs laid out on the left side of the space for any studying one might want to do, and a set of comfortable cushioned armchairs around a low, round table on the right. The table had a stack of loose paper, quills and ink jars already prepped on the side, ready for anyone to use. He’d already chosen his book - easy to do when he had to walk through almost every stack of shelves on the way there - so he padded for the desk and eased himself into a chair. 

The book he’d chosen was in the common tongue but he still enjoyed making notes about things as he read, claiming that it helped him retain the knowledge better. He chose a pristine moon-white quill and flicked through the pages until he got to where he wanted to be - The Conquest of Galdrin Savern - then readied his paper and started writing. Somehow, Vandaier had mastered the art of multitasking quite thoroughly, able to read and write at the same time unless he was thoroughly invested in one or the other, so he read to the pace of his quill gently gliding along the paper.

°•.

It was quite frankly a ridiculous amount of paper later when he began to hear something other than the sound of flipping pages, pausing in the middle of writing a rather wry comment about how inaccurate the book was regarding the Fall of A’aima. He lifted his quill from his page and listened hard, casting a net of awareness out into the nearby stacks to make sure he wasn’t being stared at from the shadows. 

Nothing. 

Nothing, except for the faint high pitched noises coming from what sounded like the level below him. 

Vandaier narrowed his eyes, settling his own short novel of notes in the middle of his book to save his page before he stood, creeping through the bookshelves until he once again stood at the balcony overlooking the rest of the great library. There were different variations of the noises now, getting louder the closer he got, followed by a different, sort of shushing sound. 

He stared blankly for a moment as he realised what, exactly, it was, and then he was striding for the staircase to find Oto and his apparent clan of cats, to ask him why he thought it was such a good idea to bring them into the only building in the city requiring _absoloute_ silence. 

The vague meowing of cats steadily got louder until he found himself a level down as he’d predicted, running a hand along the metal railing to his left as he headed for the nearest living space. At least he was adhering to the rules as he approached quietly, spotting at least five cats milling around the vicinity before he strode right into the area, catching Oto completely off guard with seven cats begging for his attention.

And those were just the ones around the boy - there were at least another dozen leaping from armchair to armchair, scattering the loose paper set on the far table all over the floor and very nearly shattering an entire jar of jet ink on the plush rug beneath the oak furniture. He lunged to catch it before it stained the entirety of the green rug black, sending a scathing glare to Oto who _still_ hadn’t noticed he was standing behind him. 

All thoughts about where he was vanished from his mind at the ignorance and entitlement of the Oracle. His feral snarl shook the bookcases surrounding them, making every cat in the room leap five feet in the air out of sheer terror before they took off in the direction of the staircase, yowling loudly. Oto himself smashed his head into the low lying table in front of him as he toppled from his chair, hissing and rubbing the sore spot with an offended glare in his direction. 

“How _dare_ you.” Vandaier’s voice crackled like lightning in the silent - if not for the cats - building. He took a step toward the boy, baring his fangs aggressively. “How _utterly ignorant_ of you.” 

Oto opened his mouth to speak, but another bone-shredding growl loosed itself from the king’s throat, rendering him mute.

“ _Get out._ ” He couldn’t move fast enough, tripping over his feet as he bolted for the staircase and freedom from the wrath of the dragon, mumbling a frightened apology before he was gone in a flash of grey. 

Vandaier glared after him for a moment, curling his free fingers into a fist and back again to calm himself down. He wasn’t often an angry person, but the wrath that came with his race was as much ingrained in him as his powers were; there was virtually nothing to calm him down when he got fired up over certain things and it had led to devastation in more than one instance, both physical and mental. 

After a while of spacing out to cool off, he loosed a heavy sigh, shoulders slumping. He shouldn’t have gotten angry at Oto. He knew better than to lose his temper around others. It let a hollow ache in his chest as he looked around at the mess the cats had caused, tightening his grip on the jar of ink still in his hand. Feeling that brought a little movement back to him, enough to softly place it back on the table and crouch to start collecting the paper up from the floor. 

He worked slowly, stacking the paper back where it had been placed and reorganising the quills and ink delicately, as if they would shatter at the slightest touch from him. 

Then he made his way back to his level, neatly folding his paper and sliding the novel he’d been reading away where it belonged. He cleaned off the quill he’d been using and screwed the lid of the ink jar on tightly, setting them back just as softly as he had the others, then quickly made his way out of the library with his paper clutched in his hands. 

II . V

Balls were never Vandaier’s favourite experience in life - especially human ones. He only really had a good time when he was so far gone on alcohol he let himself get dragged into the fray, but even those occasions were rare because of his duties and his unwillingness to drink unless he was in Camelot. A few glasses of wine didn’t count since they didn’t even touch his usual intake when he was at home, though he supposed no one but the people of Logres produced Drakesbane. 

That was… strong, even to him. It tasted like it could actually hurt the senses with its strong zing, looked the colour of pure flame and burned all the way down just like it. The feeling did settle after a few minutes however, leaving a rather pleasant warmth in the chest that usually meant he was up for another round. 

Only his inner circle got to see him like that, precisely the reason why it was forbidden at Camelot’s prestigious balls. No one needed to see him drunkenly stumbling onto the balconies in his royal quarters, claiming he could shift mid-fall to avoid him being splattered all over the cobblestones while being hauled away bodily by Verchal and Locrinus. 

So, small parties were excellent for him, but fancy dress and courtly duties were a drag to say the least. This one was important though, at least for him, so he had to attend. It seemed that Queen Eliora had finally requested a meeting with him to discuss the legitimacy of his claims to both help her kingdom and establish trade routes between them, which meant he had to put out all the stops in order to win over not only her, but the other important people chipping in alongside the monarch. 

That was where the fancy dress came into play, and Vandaier had always loved to put on a show. 

The ballroom, as was the norm with all prestigious buildings in Littlevale, was dome shaped, and absoloutely enormous. It lay on the eastern side of Queen Eliora’s palace and opened out on the right side of the great doors to an expansive, exotic garden right where the start of the canal trickled out. It was nothing more than a man-made water feature in her garden, but it flowed out to wind throughout the city, providing the masses the same luxurious view she had from her palace. 

Vandaier had planned to look exactly who he was when he arrived at the ballroom gates. This was an outfit he only wore when he needed to make a statement, commissioned by Muri as his coronation present, which certainly set the bar for how well made it was. He was dressed head to toe in the finest ebony silk tunic and pants he’d ever seen in his life, threaded with pure gold, silver and emerald filigree to represent the Galactical line that ruled Logres. That wasn’t the half of it. Upon his left shoulder sat a perfectly carved silver dragon head, fashioned with golden accents. From its open mouth led a golden chain that ran under his right armpit and across his back and chest, locking the piece in place. The chain flowed seamlessly into what could be considered the best part of his ensemble - a cloak of pure night, reflecting galaxies into its perfectly smooth, night dark surface. 

The rest of him had been groomed appropriately. He had his hair up in an elegant bun to sweep it out of his face and accommodate his crown, equally as imposing and decadent as the rest of his outfit just with the sheer amount of jewels encrusted in its surface. 

Here, he was Vandaier, Star-King, Ruler of Logres, the Dark Dragon incarnate. 

The palace guards, who he’d had many a conversation with on various nights when he was out strolling the city, immediately dropped into a low bow upon seeing him, welcoming him into the ballroom with a respectful flourish of their hands. The ball was already starting up, music filtering through the open windows high in the dome for the guests to dance to. There was a staircase leading into Eliora’s palace on the left side of the giant room, though it was halved halfway up to make room for a large balcony on either side of it, overlooking the floor. 

That was where he’d preside for the night, overseeing the ball while verbally sparring with the lords and ladies of Littlevale to assure them him and the rest of his dragon kingdom weren’t about to burn their homes down the moment they gave him open border permissions. Some people’s opinions of dragons hadn’t changed over the years, so it was his job as King to put those worries to rest, even if he had to be openly insulted time and time again before he got them to listen.

Queen Eliora floated down the staircase to receive him. Heads turned as the two met in the middle of the ballroom but he paid them no mind, wearing the physical mask of the ruler he was too tightly to warrant them a glance. He dipped his head respectfully as she gestured for them to move to the balcony, “For more privacy,” and he acquiesced by extending his arm for her to take. Her tiny hand drifted to rest on his forearm before they were moving, his cloak rippling at his feet like a pool of pure starlight.

The ballroom returned to its usual splendour of dancing and courting below as they reached the balcony and the large mahogany table situated in the middle of the space, most of the seats already taken. The heads of the table lay empty for them to take, so Vandaier lifted Eliora’s hand to his lips to kiss softly in farewell before he took his seat at the left end, watching as the pixie Queen waltzed into hers. 

Silence, as the lords and ladies of Littlevale studied him with enough scrutiny a lesser male might have crumbled. So he picked a weapon sharp enough to cut the tension. 

“Have you decided not to have me thrown out for merely breathing slightly warm air over this fine table?” The King smiled softly as the nearest Lady flinched at the accusation, recognising her as Jianha, Lady of Yulmaso. If he remembered rightly then she’d been required to sail across Anantashesha’s Lair just to attend this meeting, as ruler of one of the far southern lands Littlevale still had control of. It was a pleasant surprise to see her, though her reaction was not so. 

Another tune, jaunty and playful, rang through the ballroom as he waited on a reply, Eliora’s court glancing between themselves before Handol, Lord of the Deep Forest and Eterun, turned to him with a smile too wide for his fair features to handle. He noticed Eliora cutting him an exasperated glare from across the table and grinned right back, the epitome of the feral dragon this table believed him to be. 

“Your question is laced in great lengths of sarcasm, Lord Vandaier. We understand the last meeting pushed you beyond your boundaries-” 

“Do not assume you have a hold on me, Lord Handol.” His voice was a quiet rumble of thunder, contrasting the way his ringed fingers tapped out the light melody playing on the table. 

“Of course, my Lord. You have much to offer us and stand much to gain from your proposed treaty, forgive us if we were wary of any hidden motives you may or may not have had.” A golden haired beauty of Noruinir - Lady Siles - spoke from the left hand of Eliora, dipping her head with a soft smile that made her curled horns glint under the light of the chandeliers. He smiled back, one of the rare genuine ones he could give to these people, since he considered her one of the more decent people in the Queen’s court. 

“This is a new age, for all races, without prejudice or malcontent from preconceptions.” Queen Eliora stated, receiving nods from all around the table. “You graced me with the honour of ruling Littlevale, and thus the choice to trust and make connections with all of its people in mind.” She nodded toward him as her wings fluttered behind her, beling her nerves. 

“Lord Vandaier is a just and honest man. We may have had problems in the past, and certainly had our spats while he has stayed here,” His gaze stayed to the General standing guard at the top of the staircase while Eliora talked, armour so polished it reflected the ballroom perfectly on its metal plates, protecting her Queen from anyone who might want to harm her. Azoah stood stone-faced, though once she sensed his attention on her she flicked her concentration to him, shadows curling over her throat as she subtly glared. 

He grinned back at her, quickly changing his priorities back to the table when he heard the telltale clink of her armour while she adjusted her stance, already ruffled just because of a smile. 

Vandaier tuned back into the meeting unable to stop the growing smirk from sliding onto his mouth, conveniently placing a hand over his mouth as he heard a telltale huff before the General clinked off down the staircase to get herself a drink. Another guard took her place - a woman named Sibyl he’d met recently - and they exchanged friendly smiles as he looked back up again to see who it was. 

“But what if they _attack?_ What defences do we have against dragonfire? You said it yourself, Your Majesty, you saw just how he was with your General! What if the others have the same powers?” Lord Handol was bleating like a nervous sheep, half slumped over the mahogany slab as he attempted to plead for the treaty not to go forward. His dark, mousy hair was starting to stick to the sides of his face under the bright chandeliers and candles around the balcony, creating a rather amusing image that he savoured for a few seconds before the Lord became too hysterical to handle. 

“If you’d have asked, Lord Handol, I’d have told you precisely which dragons would be arriving here as emissaries, and how well protected our trade lines would be with them guarding the passage between our kingdoms.” Vandaier mused, tilting his head to the side with all the grace of a natural predator as Handol whipped his own toward him, pure terror rising in his eyes. 

“You- you _what?!_ ” His deafening shriek echoed around the ballroom as he stood, toppling his chair to the ground. Silence fell; even the band currently playing petered out. Lord Handol didn’t seem to realise, shaking with fear and anger as he marched right up to the sovereign’s chair and waggled a thin finger in front of his face. “You cannot! I will not allow your kind to live here! You mean to plant spies in Littlevale! You know what they say about dragons, Queen Eliora! Nothing but- but _fat, greedy snakes!_ They’ll only pillage and burn everything down we’ve worked so hard to build!” 

Lord Hanlon heaved as he finished his rant, at which time Vandaier leaned forward and teasingly snapped at the air in front of his finger, a sultry grin on his face. 

The resulting scream made even Eliora crack a smile, which is when the Lord noticed how deafeningly silent the previously baudy ballroom was. 

The Queen nodded to her General who had silently returned upon hearing the first sign of raised voices, prompting her to march over to Handol and lead him from the balcony as he shrieked about how Vandaier had set him up, how all of this was just a ploy for him to get rid everyone with a clear mind, unintentionally insulting Eliora herself. 

Lord Handol was right the entire time, of course, but as he was being dragged from the ballroom currently screaming bloody murder about how dragons should have been wiped from the planet - earning a soft hiss from Vandaier - no one listened to his ravngs.

“The Treaty will be signed tomorrow morning.” Eliora announced softly, but not quietly. “Enjoy the ball, all of you. I expect to see each one of you on the dance floor with a partner by the end of the night.” He snorted at that, dipping his head at the clear dismissal before he stood. The music returned a few moments later, jilted at first but growing more confident as the room once again started to fill up with pleasant chatter - likely gossip about the Lord’s outburst to solidify Vandaier’s treaty. 

Politics never stopped being messy, but with a few billion years on the rest of his opponents, he knew how to sweep the board. 

III

It was a strange time for an appointment to be scheduled, but he’d specifically requested it for his client with a note for him to come with his company. His father was struggling to climb out of the Malentis Ocean, casting the water with a fiery sheen as he surfaced and began clawing his way into the sky. His mother was still hovering in the sky to his right, watching on with an amused but tender glow to her, extending her silver sheen to him until he found her hold. He pulled as she sank further in the opposite direction, helping him up while she faded away. 

Vandaier knew Oto wouldn’t be in a good mood for the simple reason that he’d been summoned at dawn of all times, before the stars had even closed their eyes to rest. He’d planned on it, actually, and had spent the entirety of his week cleaning up his apartment so they could have this day all to themselves, to work through what had happened in the library. 

He wouldn’t say it out loud, but he felt extremely guilty for exploding on the boy. 

Their appointments following the incident had been stilted and awkward, so much so that there was no point in them if the whole point of Oto coming to him was to help him relax. It wasn’t helping the Oracle in his vision-finding, and it wasn’t productive for Vandaier to stand awkwardly near his dining table watching the boy struggle to make himself comfortable, words to heal and soothe lost on the tip of his tongue. Even Isaac hadn’t been willing to come out of the spirit realm so he could work on altering him, leaving them utterly drained. 

His apartment was actually looking fairly clean now that he’d swept all of his books away into shelves he’d procured from a talented woodworker at the local marketplace. Now a pair of floor-to-ceiling shelves bracketed his fireplace, crammed to the very last space full of his novels, but for the first time in months he had space to put things down on his dining table - and actually eat there. The wall behind the shelves wasn’t even slightly visible but he wasn’t bothered that he couldn’t see the cream paint, preferring to admire the colourful spines of his books instead. 

Vandaier turned and pretended as if he were simply studying the stars once he spotted a familiar dark grey cloak trudging along the main street toward his apartment, eyes softening sympathetically. He knew Oto wouldn’t be able to see him, but he didn’t know how this encounter would go. He didn’t mean to make the boy’s life hell because of his own problems, and he was worried he’d simply turn around and go right back home once he explained what he wanted them to do. 

He’d do the same, but he wasn’t about to impose the same foolish thoughts he’d had when he was younger on the Oracle. 

The dawn light was just starting to make the mountains behind him look less like a jagged black smear on the earth, casting itself on the stone until it shone in various shades of granite. Occasionally there were accidents where people were accidentally used as landing pads for the mountain goats that lived in those crags, but most of the time both cultures kept themselves far away from each other. No one in Littlevale had ever ventured into those harsh spikes of rock without being gravely injured. The Ink was all around them, in all different shapes and sizes.

Vandaier glanced in the direction of his front door as he heard Oto knock at it, glancing down at himself to make sure he was properly dressed. Since this wasn’t an appointment and he was planning to spend the entire day in his home he didn’t see the need to wear such formal things, just a loose white shirt unbuttoned at the top and a pair of black pants. No shoes, since they wouldn’t need them either.

He padded through his apartment and opened the door to Oto and Isaac with a soft smile, silently stepping back and welcoming them both into his home. The pair of them seemed ruffled but gratefully shuffled inside, the former still rubbing his eyes from where he’d surely woken up not too long ago. He carried a large pouch with him that the spirit cat floated curiously over, but he didn’t ask questions about it as he closed the door behind them. 

“Thank you for coming, Oto. It means a lot that you’d trust me like this.” Vandaier once again took Oto’s cloak as the boy slipped off his shoes, but he didn’t get to ask what was in the pouch before he was off again, already moving toward his couch. 

“It’s fine, I couldn’t sleep anyway. Plus it’s been a while since I saw you, you know. You slept again.” They’d postponed their appointments because they weren’t going to get anything done in their current state, so he supposed it had been a long time since they saw each other. It had been over a month since their last meeting, longer still since the library incident. 

“I did. Did you do anything interesting while I was gone?” He hung Oto’s cloak up neatly above his shoes and strode across the living area to take his usual place next to the boy, gesturing toward the pouch that was still tightly held in his grip. “Anything I should be worried about? That’s not a bag of wasps, is it, to torture me into apologising?” 

Oto grinned at the attempt at humor he offered him, shaking his head as he held up the tightly sealed pouch. It didn’t seem too threatening, but he didn’t know whether the boy had taken it upon himself to learn how to concoct deadly potions in their time away from each other. He knew he liked to travel, so perhaps he’d even ventured out to Silon or Nahamre for a change of scenery. It would certainly explain why his skin was just a slight shade darker than its usual pale complexion, but he wasn’t one to pry into others business.

“Nah, but now I wish it was, just to see the look on your face.” He set it down on the table before them and loosened the tight strings sealing the top of the pouch, allowing Isaac to leap onto his shoulders to watch at a better angle. Vandaier leaned forward to see what was inside as the lip quivered all on its own, a faint glowing light flickering inside-

“No..!” He shot up out of his seat with an awed gasp to cradle the tiny kitlight that had managed to slip out of the pouch, illuminating his hands with a bright yellow glow. There was nothing to stop the loud croon he let out when he beheld more tiny kitlights floating up out of the pouch, forming a clan of tiny flickering lights as they explored his home. He stared at them in unabashed joy, lifting the hand not currently holding the light weight of the first kitlight to gently stroke along the glowing fur of the others, watching the way they twined themselves around his fingers with quiet, adorable mewls. 

There had to be at least a dozen tiny kitlights twirling through the air around them, landing occasionally to sleep for a minute before they were up and flying again. 

“I thought they’d be a good start to say sorry for making a mess in the library..” Oto mumbled, a little shy as he held out a hand for a kitlight to stand on. Their eyes met in the twinkling light around them, and he could just tell the rift between them was already patched up - already healing, even from the moment they’d momentarily parted ways. 

“You can only get kitlights from-” 

“From Norurinir, I know. I left for the desert the day we decided not to fulfil our appointments.” 

Vandaier’s heart ached as he stared at the boy. This… this paragon of visions, so cold on the exterior, but with a true heart of gold if one stuck around long enough to find out. Plagued endlessly by his powers, but with such a strong will to provide for others that he persevered through it all, going above and beyond to keep the ones he cared about protected and safe.

There was still good in the world, despite everything. Despite The Ink, and the unfavourable people they both could be sometimes. This glowing proof in front of him curled around his heart like a warm hug, which he didn’t realise he was actually instigating until Oto was groaning in pain with his face squished against Vandaier’s shoulder, though he was laughing and hugging him back too. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, and the dawn grew brighter behind them as he squeezed the boy even tighter against his chest. “I promise, with my life and death, to protect you. You are a true friend, Oto.” 

The Oracle nodded, and he felt him brushing against his jaw as Oto craned his head up to look at the kitlight that had landed in Vandaier’s hair, rolling around in the thick locks. The sovereign grinned at the light pressure it gave him and carefully extricated himself from the hug so he didn’t dislodge the glowing ball of fluff, noticing Isaac offering blobs of his own dark aura to the kitlights so they could bat them around the air like weightless bouncy balls.

“If you don’t mind, I could start work with Isaac now.” Oto glanced at his spirit as he spoke, then nodded with a quiet hope shining in his eyes. 

“Yeah, okay. Figured that’s why you wanted him physically present today, anyway.”

°•.

It was a slow, methodical process - at least for him. Oto was quite happily munching on the cookies Vandaier had retrieved from the kitchen for him, breaking them up into infinitesimal pieces so the kitlights surrounding him could eat their fill of the sweet snack. It was well past dawn by now; the two of them had spent a while naming each and every kitlight floating around them and making hot drinks for themselves where they were now sitting on the table, readily refilling themselves each time they were emptied. 

Meanwhile, he was sitting on the floor opposite Isaac, next to the fire since the spirit cat seemed to have a fixation for warmth and danger, trying his best not to break into a sweat. While it was true his power was an endless abyss, it took time, patience and energy to curl out the tiniest little spool of it in its raw form without absoloutely decimating the area around him. One wrong move and Littlevale would be nothing more than a memory. 

Vandaier focused harder, the roar of blood in his ears drowning out the giggles of the Oracle as a kitlight took a nosedive onto his lap, falling asleep mid-air. His eyes burned with green fire as he reached down into that infinite pit inside himself, plunging a night-dark hand into it and grasping the smallest dewdrop between his talons. He pulled up, up, up until it slowly shimmered into place in between him and Isaac - the smallest star he could risk plucking from his endless sky. 

Already it was pulling the flames from the fire toward it, his rug soon to follow as it inched closer. A pure, pulsing drop of his power.

He dipped his head to prompt Isaac to move, watching with bated breath as the cat padded up to the burning star, tilting his head to the side with his ears firmly flicked back, wisely wary. A lick of flame shot between the spirit and the star as it was ripped from the hearth and into its orbit, startling him. Vandaier urged him to continue, vaguely worried for the kitlights as he noticed them curiously floating over to them. 

“Hurry, little one.” He whispered, quiet but firm as he watched. Isaac glanced up at him before he leaped forward and swallowed the star whole, immediately curling onto his side and writhing as it spread its energy throughout his body. Oto cried out, doubling over on the couch with one hand on his heart, but-

Isaac’s form shuddered. His body started to pulse, growing larger and larger with each apparent heartbeat. Pointed ears curved slightly, paws growing denser as his mass almost doubled in size. The pulsing didn’t stop until the cat was - well, no longer a cat, but more like a cub of some sort. His body was now plump in all the places a cub might be, and as Isaac rose from his transfiguration even the way he stumbled around seemed to portray such a thing. 

Vandaier smiled slowly as the spirit bundled over to him, now dense enough that he could leap onto his chest and knock him to the floor. He chuckled and passed a hand over the cub’s ears, drifting down to tickle underneath his muzzle and watch as he let out an adorable chuff. Some sort of tiger, maybe, though perhaps with his void fur he could be a black panther. Just infinitely more powerful. 

“I feel... I..” Oto trailed off on the couch as he rubbed his chest, gaping at Isaac who was happily slobbering all over Vandaier’s face. The dragon sat up with the cub in tow, picking him up and moving them both to the couch so he could inspect his spirit’s new form. 

“You may feel a block with your powers for a while - it’ll just be Isaac getting used to what he can do. You’ll have to work together to figure out the balance of receiving visions and defending from them, but I figured we’d start small instead of ripping the city apart with a larger star.” He explained softly, cradling a small group of kitlights that landed on his arms while he watched Oto stroke down Isaac’s fur, blue eyes wide with amazement. 

“You made him so _beautiful!_ God, look at him, Vandaier!” He turned Isaac - pliantly obeying with a happy chuff - toward him and took hold of his two front paws, stretching him up and making him wave at the sovereign with a rare grin settled on his fair features. “Oh, we’re gonna get into _so_ much trouble together, Is!” 

IV

_Darkness clawed at him, tearing through every single bond he’d ever known, toppling each obsidian wall he’d so carefully constructed over the centuries. He screamed as it raked skin-shredding talons through his back like he was nothing but a piece of ribbon, ready to be cut and shaped into whatever it desired. His sobs did nothing to quell its vengeance, fueling it as it continued to pound down on whatever inch of skin it could find on him, splitting and snapping and gnashing at his soul._

_He couldn’t see._

_There was no rhythm to the torture, just the endless agony it brought him as he thrashed against his restraints, shrieking when another talon snapped something irrepairable in his spine. There was no way out, he couldn’t breathe, the metal they’d clamped around his neck was too tight.._

_They didn’t care. He didn’t even know who they were, just malicious shadows with a penchant for stripping him of his flesh every night, rending him into nothing but a hollow shell, begging and pleading and howling for mercy._

_The cave. Even the thought of it had him so utterly terrified he could hardly move, nausea swirling in his stomach. The walls were so dark they might as well have not existed, jagged rock cutting into his flesh as he struggled to get away from those talons. He could have sworn the cave shuddered with its maniacal laugh seeing him so utterly helpless, tears pouring down his face as he sobbed, trying to remember what the sun looked like._

_His parents… He’d seen them butchered right before his eyes. Saw those great, terrifying rulers of the world decapitated, flesh and sinew spilling out onto the rocks and lifeless eyes staring into the sky, as if begging to fly just one last time. He’d watched as they stripped the golden and silver scales from their very hides and cut into their still-warm flesh. He’d bore witness to them stuffing his parents down their throats, moaning at how perfect they tasted._

_He freefell into a never ending pit of despair and loathing, staring blankly as visions of the ones he’d loved, every single person that had followed him and died because of it, swam before his eyes. The shadows cackled hysterically at his pain, drinking and feasting on it like royals at a wedding, like those humans did to his parents, sawing their great horns off and wearing them as prizes around their necks._

_It went on forever, spanning the galaxy and back infinitely. There was no end to his torture, no end to the agony that wracked him each and every second of his life. Each time he attempted to resurface those talons dragged him back kicking and screaming, marvelling in how powerless he was. He was useless, he was undeserving of life, he should just-_

An agonised scream pierced the night air as he flung himself out of his nightmare, heaving and shuddering. He barely registered his feet hitting the floor as he stumbled through his apartment, slamming open the bathroom door and only just managing to drape himself over the toilet before he hurled up his dinner. 

Time stopped and started as he hung over the toilet, visions flashing before his eyes that made him shudder and make another mess in the bowl. 

Birds were already chirping outside his apartment by the time he felt physically able to lift his hand to flush the toilet, resting his forehead against the cool marble to try to relax himself a little. He was still shaking, curled around the bowl as if it would provide him any comfort at all, but at least he could finally breathe, could focus enough to hear the delicate birdsong filtering through his closed bathroom window. 

It took an immense amount of effort to stand, clutching the counter for balance and looking at himself in the mirror when he could feel his feet enough to allow them to take his weight. Haunted green eyes stared back at him, no stars in sight. He didn’t even dare to stray from his face, too afraid of the white slices cut into his skin to risk glancing at them billions of years later. 

He rinsed his mouth out, brushing his teeth at a snail’s pace because he had to focus on keeping his hand steady. Everything he did was more of an instruction in a manual than anything organic, keeping his mind carefully blank as he carefully padded back into his bedroom to fix the bed, leaving the door open as he moved into the living area to let the stench of terror filter out. 

Lighting the fire manually, Vandaier took a seat directly in front of the warmth, keeping his gaze on the light, the warmth that came with it. The sun was streaming through the windows to his right, sending shafts of fat yellow light through his open curtains, but he couldn’t face him at the moment. Couldn’t stomach looking at his father, knowing that he was up there, billions of light years away, when he should be next to him - should be _alive._

So he sat next to the fire, close enough the heat scorched his skin, and didn’t register the pain as he stared into its flaming light.

°•.

The world was muted, but he was not. None of them were, in that family of theirs.

There, in the large courtyard outside of Queen Eliora’s palace, hosted a party of four. Two danced particularly close to each other, clearly a couple, while the two either shyly bobbed around, a little too awkward to dance, or bounded around the courtyard happily. Malakhi played a mean tune on his mandolin, strumming as if his life depended on it while Audrine howled from behind, cheering his love on. 

Oto and Isaac were clearly enjoying themselves, though the former showed it more in the way a younger brother might reluctantly enjoy his older sibling taking the limelight for himself. The guards posted at the gates to Eliora’s palace were having a grand time, their armour clinking as they tapped their feet to the beat and hollered at Malakhi for a favourite of theirs. 

Vandaier stood shrouded in shadow beneath the pillars bracketing the courtyard, watching silently. More than once Isaac noticed him, bounding around his pillar, but he quickly sent the growing cub away to the rest of the group whenever he got too close. Today was not a day for any sort of physical touching, or even for people to stand near him. 

It was nice to see them enjoying themselves, however, as they waited for Hush to meet them. He was favoured by the Queen so it was no surprise for them to be caught up next to the gates, and even less so for Malakhi not to resist playing a tune or two in the hopes Eliora would be there to escort the fawn. The familial bond they all shared eased the ache in his bones the longer he watched, settling something that always got displaced when he had a nightmare. He didn’t want to interact with any of them, no, that would require energy he’d been sapped off, but leaning against the pillar and subtly enjoying the music the demon was making helped him recharge. 

The gates opened on a phantom wind and out strutted Hush without Eliora, much to the disappointment of Malakhi. He strummed a few sad notes on his mandolin which perked the faun’s attention, immediately falling into a dramatic tirade about how much he’d tried to convince the Queen to meet his friend. 

“Oh, my darling Malakhi!” He sighed, limping as if he were physically wounded. “I tried so hard, my love! I begged and I fought and I pleaded but she would not listen! It seems she has better things to do than adhere to my wishes..” 

Too caught up in his acting, Hush’s doe eyes watered with the beginnings of tears, fully collapsing into Malakhi’s arms - Audrine caught his mandolin before it hit the floor, ruffling his love’s hair softly - to which Oto snorted and moved a little closer to the group, running his thumb over the amulet under his cloak. Isaac was starting to prowl around near his pillar again, so he kept one eye on the cub as he watched the dramatics ensue.

Malakhi fell right along with the scene, crumpling both of them to the cobblestones - newly cleaned, for some reason - as he let out an agonised wail too real for him to cope with. Vandaier stiffened and turned away, padding through the shadowed walkway until he reached the edge of the courtyard, aiming to curl up in his apartment for the rest of the day. He shouldn’t have ventured out, not when everything was too fresh in his mind.

A soft chuff sounded behind him. 

The dragon turned, finding Isaac padding confidently toward him, growling playfully. He restrained a sigh as he allowed the spirit to come up to his feet, crouching down and laying a hand on the cub’s head to stroke. Just for a minute, he thought, just until he got bored enough to wander back to Oto and the rest of the group. 

It came sooner than expected, as Isaac reared on his hind legs to give a surprisingly wet lick to his face, then leaped away back to the courtyard as if he hadn’t just cracked Vandaier’s entire mindset in half. He stared after the spirit with wide eyes, ignoring the telltale heat of his father on his back as he stood up.

He was doing it before he’d even fully processed it, flicking his right wrist and curling his fingers as his power rumbled out of him toward the cub. It only took a matter of seconds but he knew he’d struck correctly as a loud feline yelp rang throughout the courtyard. The dragon continued walking, ignoring the calls of his name that followed, probably wondering where he was since there was no mistaking what he’d done. 

Beside the night-dark cub, rolling around with him between the family’s feet, was a celestial tiger cub, rivers of starlight acting as stripes between the darkness of the void. 

V

The skies were completely blotted out when Vandaier left his apartment, rolling storm clouds looming overhead as if waiting with bated breath for an order to fall. By leaving, he merely meant sitting on his balcony railing and tipping over the edge with a small smile, free falling for a few seconds before he ripped his true form free into the world, sailing over the entirety of the city in a matter of minutes.

It was perfect, in his opinion, for flying. 

His wings sliced through the sky like a knife through butter, splitting the clouds in two as he heaved himself through the dense fog, inhaling deeply. It had been so long since he’d flown he was starting to ache for the feeling of wind roaring in his ears, of the many lands rushing by below as he soared over them. He loosed a feral cry into the world as he surfaced above the dark grey clouds, listening to the way it bounced off the nearby mountains and ricocheted across the land.

Some part of him recalled Lord Hanlon’s long rant from months ago and grinned, wishing on the stars wheeling above him that the man could hear it, if only to see true terror contort his face. 

He twisted his body to the right to sail easily in the direction of Iestiel, scattering clouds in his wake as he dipped his wing tip into the fluffy plumes. Since they were especially dense, close to breaking, he used the mountains rising up out of the mist as a marker that he was on the right track to the coastal city. It would take around an hour for him to get there compared to the full day and night it might if he went in his human form, so he indulged himself in the sky with all of his extra time. 

Once he was completely sure Littlevale couldn’t spot him high up in the sky even from a steadily growing distance, Vandaier allowed himself to be - well, himself - for a while. He let his wings fall to his sides and flipped until the entire world was upside down, breaking through the cloud cover and spying Nahamre in the distance as he spun once, twice, three times over, using the momentum of his fall to speed his journey when he levelled out for a spell. 

There could be nothing else in the world - just him, the sky and the land - and he’d be completely at peace. This was where he was meant to be; up in the skies, roaming freely wherever he pleased, taking what he deserved and nothing less. He let a soft growl rumble out of his throat, a dark roll of thunder echoing the noise. 

The heavens opened around him in a matter of moments, like that was all it needed to start its relentless downpour. 

°•.

The ground shuddered as Vandaier landed, taking advantage of his great height to look past the high sandstone walls wrapped around the city, opening out into the sea where an illustrious harbor was left deserted - save the occasional fisherman dashing inside after stringing up his boat. The desert was practically a marshland with the amount of rain slamming down on it, which did wonders for the guard’s moods as he shifted back into his human form and strolled for the gates, already drenched from his flight. 

The rain ran in rivers down his face as he entered Iestiel. He was thankful he’d decided to wear a simple black tunic and pants, though he was thoroughly uncomfortable as the material stuck to his skin as he walked. There was no reason to hurry as he probably already looked as though he’d taken a swim in the sea on the southern side of the city, just ducking under the verandas of the main marketplace before he dried himself off, on the search for food. 

Vandaier stepped into one of the only places still open, though there were only a few couples dining in opposite corners of the establishment, talking in hushed voices. The counter lay in the center of the main room with a wall at the back with open arches on either side, halving the room. It was tastefully decorated in what he could determine as traditional Iestiel fashion, meaning lush crimson carpets and bright orange placemats on each table, along with fire lilies to decorate - he assumed they were the city's own flower. 

A darkly tanned elven woman smiled at him as he strode toward her, slipping an apron on and rounding the side of the oak counter to serve him. He ordered almost everything on the menu barring things with mushrooms in - he absoloutely detested the mushy things - and was shown to a rather lavish table next to the bay windows. He was left to his own devices after he was informed his food would be arriving shortly, leaving him sipping at the hot cocoa he’d ordered once he was seated. 

The streets outside were virtually empty, though a few brave souls still attempted to run between the verandas in the marketplace to avoid being soaked so thoroughly. 

He was here on more political terms, mainly to assess the rumors of Anantashesha causing tsunamis nearby, and to see if he could call the great leviathan off. There had been multiple accounts by now in most of the coastal cities lying alongside the water wyrm’s passage, and since he was a dragon himself he figured he should put in some good standing with Littlevale’s people to find out what her problem was. 

If she provided sound evidence that these people deserved the whirlpools and floods she was calling down on them, he’d just have to spin a story to keep his reputation with the people while he allowed her to do as she wished. Anantashesha was not to be trifled with lightly. 

On the other hand, if she didn’t have a reason as to why she was terrorising the seas by the cities, he’d have to lead her away from civilisation before he exacted justice upon her. That fight for her submission - and her obedience in not terrorising mankind - would be brutal and bloody and might very well leave him in pieces, as most dragon battles were like to do. He’d rested up as much as he could before he came here, and he hoped he could catch her off guard by arriving earlier just in case she’d heard his name on the tide, but there was no telling what she might do until he faced her. 

Movement from outside the restaurant caught his attention. Or rather, who he spotted out in his periphery made him choke on his cocoa, though he supposed as a traveller he shouldn’t be too shocked to see Oto wandering the streets of a foreign city. 

Vandaier approached the counter and politely requested for two more chairs to be added to his table, not even batting an eyelid at the price as he ordered exactly the same thing he had for himself for the Oracle and his apparent friend, judging by the way they were clutching each others hands tightly in the rain. He strode over to the door and opened it a crack, wincing at the cold wind that blew in.

“Oto!” That matted, wet head whipped to him at the sound of his name, and promptly hung open in clear disbelief that he’d be where he was. Isaac, wholly unaffected by the rain and even taller than he had been thanks to another appointment of theirs, merely trotted up to the sovereign and nosed open the door to stand beside him, leaning wholly on his leg like some sort of overgrown puppy. He frowned down at the spirit in annoyance, though his eyes clearly shone with hidden affection. 

“Vandaier! Wow, uh,” Oto gestured between what looked like a humanoid cat and him as he made a beeline for the restaurant, teeth chattering as he spoke. “Jirou, meet Vandaier. Vandaier, meet Jirou. Can we get warm now? God, it’s so cold out..” 

He grinned and opened the door for him and Jirou, showing them to his table and sitting down where he had previously, just in time for the first of his dishes to be served. It was an impressive array of sushi and sauces, most likely fished in their own harbours, and he merely gestured for the boys to dig in before they were diving for the food at the same time as him, leaving the group in near-silence for a good few minutes.

He remembered to dry his companions off around halfway though, when the waitress returned with drinks for Oto and Jirou, the former shooting him an appreciative glance before he dug back into the fish meal happly. 

After several courses, including a curry so spicy he had to request some milk to clear the burn in his throat, all three of them were stuffed full to the brim. That in itself was a feat, since Vandaier usually ate enough for five full grown warriors at the best of times, but they sat slumped in their chairs and eagerly thanked the waitresses that took their empty dishes away. 

“So, why are you here Vandaier?” Oto turned his head toward him, a curious lilt to his words as if it were wholly unfamiliar to him that he might visit other cities when they didn’t have meetings together. 

“Business with Anantashesha.” He rumbled, spooking Jirou at both his words and the deep timbre of his voice. He had to stop himself from cooing at the calico to calm him down, watching as Oto petted the short fur on his hand until he was settled again. The catboy didn’t seem to talk much, ears constantly pinned beneath his hood. Vandaier hoped he could gain his trust, at least so he didn’t have to be so wary of him. 

“As in? She’s like, a seven hundred foot wyrm!”

“I may have to fight her tomorrow, Oto, so thank you for the confidence in my skills.” 

The Oracle winced, realising his mistake in feeding into his worries. Vandaier shook his head slightly to assure him it was okay, reaching over to the large decanter of wine placed in the middle of the table and pouring himself a glass. 

“She’s making a fuss in the sea and snatching up ships in various cities. It’s not a regular pattern which is comforting for me at least, but the Lords of Kassos, Votane, Teores _and_ Iestiel have all contacted me separately to see if I can deal with her. I’ve visited the two western cities with no sign of her, so I’m hoping she’s lurking around in the waters here.” He explained softly, taking a large sip of his drink after. It seemed like the time to drink, what with his imminent death possibly looming over the horizon, but there was no possibility of anything more than a pleasant tingle with the limited alcohol here.

“And what if you _do_ have to fight her, Van? You don’t have an heir.” Oto pointed out the obvious, blue gaze misty as if he were trying to use his powers to foresee what might happen in the near future for him. Vandaier appreciated the gesture, while Jirou sat with his knees curled to his chest in his chair, cradling his mug of hot cocoa like a present from Armaros herself, listening silently but making no attempts to converse with him.

“Nevermind that. What are you two doing here?” He softened his voice as he addressed the skittish cat, smiling a little when those green eyes settled on him before turning to Oto, as if he wanted the boy to speak for him. 

“I’ve never been to Iestiel, so I wanted to visit for a while. I ran into Jirou while I was sorting out my tent for the night, and we’ve sort of been inseparable since. I can’t exactly sleep there tonight because of the rain, so we were just looking for an inn to rent.” Oto told his side of the story, giving Vandaier more than a few ideas as he nodded and glanced outside to where the downpour was getting even worse if possible, flashes of lightning illuminating the dark sky. 

“I’ll speak to Lord Nevere. We’ll get you both a room in his castle for the night, and then you can go home. I’ll deal with Anantashesha and hopefully meet you two on the way back.” It wasn’t often that he was unsure of his skills to defeat his enemies but he hadn’t fought a dragon since the initiation test for his crown, and none were half as imposing as the deep sea leviathan.

He’d have to do everything down to exact degrees, but all it took was one wrong move - or right one, depending on the dragon - and he was dead. 

VI

Strolling onto the harbour with his hands tucked behind his back, Vandaier scanned the open waters before him. Everything about him was a mask of calm to disguise the fact his heart was in his mouth as he sent continuous, steady pulses of his power into the ocean, calling Anatashesha to the surface wherever she was. To meet him, and to talk, before they decided whether it was to end in fire and blood. 

A crowd had gathered behind him to watch and see whether he managed to summon the leviathan but Oto and Jirou were within it, already on their way out of the city in the direction of home. They’d have to make the journey up to the river city of Nahamre before they were able to cross and aim for Littlevale, but if he survived this encounter then he’d promised both of them that he’d take them on the scenic route home.

The scenic route included them riding him all the way home in a matter of minutes, rather than the day they’d have to trek if he didn’t make it.

It was still raining, but thankfully the weather had quietened down since yesterday to allow for the city to wake up to its full splendour - which also meant he had the entirety of Iestiel burning holes into his back as he waited for Anantashesha to rise from the deep. 

“Eriuin tovon, saira Anantashesha. Cín aran a erain korul ve mabaj gikator. Nénar tar Vandaier dominntar cín preshin par ul palme, valief leviathan. Hein naj riuk ziez, a eri.” His mother tongue ripped out of him as he addressed the ocean, and he made sure to keep his composure when a number of the crowd gathered gasped, some outright accusing him of cursing them in his language. 

A deep, thunderous _boom_ shook the very foundations of the city, and silence fell as the great leviathan rose to answer her King. 

Her sheer size made him look like an ant in his human form. She needed only to rear her head out of the ocean and the crowd behind them scattered to the wind, screaming in their haste to get away. Vandaier stood still as she noticed him at last, her great scaley head dipping down to pierce him with her misty grey eyes. Her scales were the colour of swirling storms, every single shade of grey and green he could think of, blending perfectly into the ocean as if she’d merely been borne of it. 

“Lat ayh ul nénar tar? Hildinyar Samyaza a Armaros?” Vandaier dipped his head the slightest amount, and her long body thrashed in the water as she twisted to get a better angle on him, a forked tongue slithering out of her mouth as she hissed at his appearance. Human. He shifted before she could open her jaws to claim he was false, flaring his wings aggressively.

She thrashed again, coiling around herself like some great snake, assessing the threat he posed now he was revealed to her. Neither spoke for a while as they sized each other up, as if they both knew how deadly the meeting could turn out to be. Already he was trying not to look too long at the great sheathes of her neck where her scales were missing to reveal nothing but scaled flesh, as if she’d already fought off one titan and would gladly survive the next one. 

He hoped Oto and Jirou were far away. He did not know if he would survive her. 

“Ku atigat ij jivon or nijmev adan rúatan? Ni indóme vamme faroth cin if lat lamime jivones, Anantasesha.” Vandaier interrupted her from looking too closely at any part of him by getting right to the point, watching as her gaze snapped back to his with a ferocity he’d only seen in his own eyes when he’d razed Logres to ashes. 

She opened her mouth and let out a bloodcurdling scream at the word human coming from his mouth, as if he could stand to speak it either. It rang across the ocean and threatened to pop his eardrums, but she dived back under the water to wet her head again to avoid any other questions as he stepped forward. He waited until she’d reappeared further out in the ocean when it hit him why she was so angry - angry toward _him_ , for taking on the skin of humans and talking as if he were one of them. 

And he knew what he had to do. 

“Thír.” Vandaier interrupted her this time as her terrible jaws parted to release whatever hurricane of hatred she had stored up inside her. He shifted, condensing his form back into that of a human, and waited to see whether she’d obey or surge forward and swallow him whole regardless of what he had to show her. The rain had started back up again, wind whipping him in the face while he stared at her, staying completely still as he’d ordered, misty eyes pinning him to the spot.

He forced himself to move, unbuttoning his soaked tunic and letting it flop to the harbour floor. His fingers shook as he unbuttoned his shirt, and he vaguely saw Anantashesha creep forward curiously while he worked to peel it away from his wet body, dropping right after while he walked right to the end of the harbour. 

The first thing those piercing eyes landed on was the scar splitting the right side of his face in half. He watched as her gaze travelled, settling on the thick white band around his neck and the twins to it wrapped around his wrists - his ankles too, if he truly wished to strip naked in front of an entire city to show her. 

It was the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life, and it was just one, simple motion. Vandaier hesitated, fingers curling into fists at his sides as he shook not from the cold or the rain, hair plastered to his head. 

He turned around, and showed the leviathan his back. 

Her answering roar made the harbour shake so violently beneath him he had to slide a foot in front of him for stability. Thunder echoed her wrath, the sky so dark it could be mistaken for the dead of night. 

Vandaier swallowed, gulping down breaths of fresh air and reminding himself every second that he was free, that he was alive and breathing and honouring his parents, before he faced Anantashesha again. 

°•.

Vandaier told her his story. It was a painstaking process, during which he wasn’t sure if it was the rain or his own tears running down his face, but the leviathan had listened to it all patiently, and by the end of it had only asked him how to condense her body down into a humans like him. 

He did cry then, honestly and truly. He broke down like a child with his first shallow scrape and fell to his knees on the harbour, weeping for everything he’d lost and gained. 

She’d merely waited until he mastered himself, then shifted as he taught her and raced across the harbour to sweep him up in her arms, careful not to touch his back. Shesha, as he’d learned she liked to go by, had taken the form of a beautiful fae woman instead of a human, with long grey hair that twirled all the way to her thighs. He’d summoned them both clothes despite the fact they got soaked again instantly, and they sat together at the end of the harbour for many hours just talking quietly to each other. 

Shesha had many stories of her own to tell which had both harmed and healed her, gesturing to her heavily scarred neck he’d spotted earlier. She’d won herself a mate in the most direct descendant of Muri, but he had been slaughtered by humans when they went exploring in the deep. Another leviathan had dealt that blow when he attempted to take her for his own despite her still deeply loving her mate, and so she had given the wyrm a slow, agonising death before relocating to what was now Littlevale. 

They’d talked until Samyaza dipped below the horizon and their limbs had grown stiff from sitting in the rain for so long, and he’d offered her a seat in his court at Camelot so she didn’t have to be alone any longer. Shesha had accepted gratefully and they’d parted ways with soft smiles. He waved to her as she dived off the end of the harbour and back into the ocean, reappearing with the softest little shriek he’d ever heard in his life to send him on his way. 

He shifted and heaved himself into the air, curling his tail in a fond farewell to the leviathan before he flew off in search of Oto and Jirou.

It was easy enough to follow the coast and eventual river upward onto land, but he noticed the river was flooding - extremely so - the farther he flew. There wasn’t a single bit of land that wasn’t extremely waterlogged and teeming with water. His worry grew as he banked left to go further inland, hoping that his friend had the foresight to get as far away from the water as possible on the way to Nahamre.

Vandaier dipped lower as he searched for Oto and Jirou, scanning the land as his mind raced through the worst scenarios possible. He’d been so caught up in talking to Shesha that he’d forgotten about the risk of the rain as his friends travelled back home - what if they were swept away by the river? What if they’d tried to make camp for the night and sank into the mud with the green film blocking their escape? What if he’d missed them entirely and they thought he wasn’t going to come back to help them? 

He spotted the thick stone walls of Nahamre in the distance, wondering how fast a party of two could travel on swift feet. Could they have reached the city? Were they safe wherever they were? 

He flipped as he neared the mountain range, turning the world upside down before he leveled out and started another lap of the river to try and find his- 

There was a glint in the midst of the mud where teeming grasslands used to be, a familiar amulet shining up at him in the dark. Vandaier’s stomach flipped as he dived for it, snatching the cloak up in his talons and loosing a terrified, mournful cry into the world. They were here, this was Oto’s cloak, drenched and mud-slicked as it was, so where _were they?_

The Oracle’s vision slammed into his head as he searched, from so many months ago. Mud and rain and wind and darkness. He cried out again, listening hard for any answering calls as he swept the area in large circles, still clutching Oto’s cloak in his talons. If he was too late… if this was a vision for both of them and he’d ruined it by being too selfish, he’d never forgive himself. 

A high pitched scream rose from the treeline and he dove for it without thinking, breath catching in his throat as he saw, _finally_ , Oto and Jirou with their arms outstretched, calling for him desperately. His hind legs extended to catch them, pulling them out of the slick mud which was absoloutely everywhere on them, in their mouths and eyes and noses. He didn’t care, he just cared they were alive and functioning enough to be able to scream as the ground fell away beneath them. 

Vandaier wasted no time, wings hauling them through the air as he made a beeline for the direction of Littlevale. They were alive… they were alive, they were safe.... He heaved a sigh of relief that probably sounded more like a roar to little Jirou who squeaked in terror. 

Alive. Alive, alive, _alive._

°•.

Vandaier made sure to lower himself down to the ground gently for his precious cargo’s sake, very awkwardly landing with his front feet first and hooking his wing talons into the ground to keep himself steady as he gently let go of Oto and then Jirou, shifting back in a matter of seconds to collect them both in his arms and squeeze tight enough that even he couldn’t breathe. 

He didn’t even let them touch the ground, carrying them both with ease through the city much to the quizzical looks of the guards they passed, until they were safely holed up in his apartment. He lit the fire without even looking at it, setting them both on the floor like they were made of porcelain. Oto said as much which earned him a teary glare, though they were both aware of the vision being fulfilled as they crashed together within a matter of seconds, holding each other tight. 

“If I’d have known it was about you I’d have screamed my head off the moment we got stuck.” Oto mused with one of his bright, beautiful smiles when they finally pulled away, noticing the state of his clothes. 

“You can use my bathroom, it’s the last room on the right. Get yourselves cleaned up - I’ll even give you some of my things to wear in the meantime since your clothes are filthy.” Vandaier spoke to the both of them as he walked them through to his bedroom, pulling open his closet and choosing the most form-fitting shirts and pants he could for both of them - which were understandably still huge. 

“I… I.. um.. didn’t know you-you were a d-dragon..” Jirou mumbled as he gratefully took the clothes he was offered, and it took all of his power not to reach over and pinch his cheeks. The calico was looking at the carpeted floor as if he didn’t have the right to be looking around in his bedroom, and it made his heart ache to see such a kind creature feel unwanted in his home because of the past.

“Do you like sweet things, little Jirou?” He asked softly, nodding his permission for Oto to use the bathroom first when the boy piped up. The cat nodded shyly, following him back out to the warm living area and sitting down when Vandaier told him he could - that he could sit wherever he wanted. 

The dragon searched his cupboards until he found a handful of sweet candy for the cat to eat, handing them over with a soft smile and sitting a healthy distance away so he didn’t get freaked out. Inside he was bubbling over with pride, for the fact that the calico had warmed up to him so quickly and accepted the food he offered him. He’d help there too, for as long as he could.

He ate in comfortable silence until Oto poked his head out from the hallway to let him know the bathroom was free again, to which Jirou smiled and bowed deeply to Vandaier, thanking him for the candy before he disappeared. 

Oto flopped on the couch with an exhausted sigh, Isaac slipping out from the spirit realm to curl up at the foot of the couch. He seemed to have grown even more despite him not giving the spirit any more stars, which led him to believe that he also grew when he defended his other half. Isaac deserved that, for keeping Oto sane enough to be able to process his visions. 

Vandaier was sure he’d be fully grown and then some by the next few months, given that he didn’t start batting his star-meals around the room and pulling everything off the shelves because of its magnetic field. 

“Thank you, Van.” 

“For what? Saving you, like I should have done hours ago?” 

“...Some wouldn’t have helped at all. You know that, so stop being so stupidly harsh on yourself. You’d think an immortal would have time to get out of his edgy phase.” He spoke with a voice five times older than himself and the sovereign hated it, eyes softening sympathetically. No one should have to bear what Oto had, but he supposed someone had to - just how he had to bear the weight of his own powers and past. 

“You are too young to let the world break you Oto.” He murmured softly, welcoming Jirou back into the room with a soft nod. He seemed to trail steam into the area from the bathroom, which brought a soft smile to his face as he thought about the cat having the freedom to take a hot bath in peace. “That’s why you have people that love you, to protect you and save you when you can’t do it for yourself. Cherish that, friend.” 

The boy nodded, shifting further up the couch so Jirou had a place to sit and somehow ended up with his head in Vandaier’s lap. Neither of them seemed to mind as the air shifted into something sleep-sweet and warm. Tiredness pulled at each one of them, sending them all to sleep one after the other. Jirou was first, curled up in a ball on the opposite side of the couch with a soft smile on his face. 

Next was Oto, turned onto his side to be more comfortable as he drifted off, clutching the black amulet attached to his cloak firmly in his hands.

Last was Vandaier, who merely pretended to sleep until dawn rose, closing his eyes and relaxing fully with the thought that _finally_ , just for the briefest of moments, everything was right with the world.


End file.
